Page 19 of Cupid's Beau

The house - if you can call it that - rises from the rocky coastline like something out of a movie. All glass and stone, multiple levels cascading down the cliff face the ocean. The winter light catches on vast windows, making the whole thing gleam. If I needed to be reminded that Jack Ellis isn’t just the man who danced withme in my parents’ dining room and kissed me silly in a small-town inn, there it is.

* * *

“Small place, my ass.” I playfully hit Jack’s arm, and his answering chuckle echoes in the vast entry.

The great room takes my breath away - soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that make the ocean feel like it’s part of the space. Modern furniture in shades of gray and blue. Abstract art on white walls. A massive stone fireplace that runs up two stories.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” Jack says, and something in his deep, rumbly voice makes me very aware that we’re completely alone here. “Kitchen’s over there. The whole place runs on generators and we’re fully stocked.”

I try not to think about what that means - about being here with him, about how the air between us feels charged with possibility.

“How long have you had this place?”

“Few years.” He moves to the windows, hands in his pockets.

The winter light catches his profile as he looks out at the water, and I find myself wondering what he’s thinking, what brought him to create this beautiful, isolated sanctuary.

“Hungry?” He turns back to me. “I can make us something.”

“You cook too?” I follow him to the kitchen, which is all sleekappliances and marble countertops. “Let me guess - trained by a professional chef between Oscar nominations?”

“Smartass.” Jack smirks and there’s warmth in his voice as he opens the fridge. “I just manage the basics. Though I make a very decent pasta.”

I hop on one of the bar stools, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. It feels intimate being in his private space, seeing this side of him.

He reaches for water, pouring us each a glass. Our fingers brush when he hands me mine, and that same electricity sparks between us. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment neither of us moves.

Then something on the stove sizzles, breaking the spell.

“So,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to sound normal. “How long do you think we’ll need to stay here?”

He focuses on chopping vegetables, his shoulders tense. “Few days, maybe longer. Until the press finds something more interesting to chase.”

Or until we figure out what this thing between us really is, I think, but don’t say.

“I can show you to your room,” he says after putting water on to boil. “Let you get settled while this cooks.”

I follow him upstairs, trying not to stare at how his shoulders fill out his sweater, how gracefully he moves despite his size, howdeliciously his ass fills his jeans… The second floor is as stunning as the first - more glass, more ocean views.

“This is you.” He opens a door to a beautiful guest suite. “Bathroom. And…” He hesitates, then leads me to another door down the hall. “There’s an office here, if you want to write. Good light.”

The office is gorgeous - a wall of windows overlooking the water, a sleek desk, a comfortable reading chair. Perfect for writing, if I could focus on anything other than the man standing next to me.

“I’ll let you settle in,” Jack says softly. “Lunch in thirty?”

I nod, suddenly overwhelmed by everything - the house, his thoughtfulness, how badly I want to kiss him again. Feel his hands on me. More…

“Thanks, Jack.”

Something flickers in his eyes, but he just nods and leaves me to unpack.

I head back downstairs after freshening up, following the smell of garlic and herbs. Jack’s still in the kitchen, plating pasta that looks far better than “decent.”

“This looks amazing,” I say, sliding back onto my stool.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He sets a plate in front of me, poking me in the ribs, and I giggle, startled.

We eat at the kitchen island, to the sound of waves. The domesticity of it - sharing a meal in his private space, the comfortable silence - feels both natural and surreal.

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